AN: Hello everybody, my name is Vincent Argeneau, not J.K. Rowling. Therefore, I do not own Harry Potter. What I do own is a deep hatred for Ginny Weasley. Any quotes in this work of fiction will be captioned in superscripts (aka:1quote1) properly attributed to their owners at the conclusion of the chapter. That is all. And now, on with the show.
Chapter 1: That Fateful Night
It was a cold, silent night on Privet Drive. As well it should be on Halloween in Surry. The children had gone to sleep, stuck in sugar induced comas until their parents should wake them up for breakfast the next day. With a faint pop, the silence was broken as an old manmade his way slowly down the street, his half-moon spectacles glinting in the streetlight.1He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into hisbelt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak which swept the ground and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.1 Stopping at regular intervals, a small click could be heard as the man held up a strange, lighter-like object. With each click, the nearest streetlight would go out, cloaking the old man in the darkness that flooded in with the absence of the light. He made his way in this fashion all the way to number 4 or Privet Drive. He then waited.
It was not too long until a tabby cat slunk around the corner of the house, hiding behind the man as it uncharacteristically looked around. The old man looked down at it, stroking his long, silver beard as he chuckled. "My dear Professor McGonagall." he spoke softly. "I must confess, this is a pleasant surprise. Should you not be out celebrating with the rest of magical England?" As he turned to look behind him, it became apparent that the cat was no longer there. In its place was a stern looking elderly woman, her hair in a tight, immaculate bun. Square glasses were perched on her nose as she looked to the man. She wore robes similar to the man's, but hers were a deep emerald green.
"Albus." She nodded her head slightly in greeting. "You know that I never was one for celebrations, especially of the kind taking place tonight." She said, her lips coming together tightly in an expression of distaste. Her eyes then bored into Albus' with a look of desperation. "Is it true, Albus?" She asked, a hardly noticeable quaver evident in her voice. Albus nodded solemnly, his eyes closing as he sighed heavily. "Lily and James" he started "were murdered by the Dark Lord Voldemort." The woman opposite him gasped and her eyes widened drastically. "And the boy?" She queried. "Safe." Albus stated firmly. "And no doubt tired from the excitement of the evening." Professor McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief. "Albus, what happened there?" She asked, disbelief staining her voice. "I'm afraid it is impossible to know, my dear Professor, exactly what occurred at the Potter household. We can only speculate and make educated guesses." The elderly man looked to the sky wistfully. "Of course, I have my own theory, but it is only an old man's take on a strange situation. All we know is that somehow, this boy was able to reflect Voldemort's spell back at him and defeat him. Magic will always defy our wildest dreams, and this situation is no different." Albus smiled gracefully, looking back down to Professor McGonagall.
"What is to become of him, Albus?" The woman asked slowly, dreading the answer. Albus gestured to the door in front of them. "Hagrid is bringing the boy here, where he will be cared for by his relatives." He explained . "I believe he will be safe and loved here, without the burden of being famous before he can walk and talk. He should grow up in the embrace of his family, not the media." Albus finished, a sad look on his face at the thought. "Albus, no. No, no, no." Professor McGonagall stated vehemently. "I've sat here all day watching these… people. They are the worst sort of muggle imaginable. They cater to their son to the point criminality. The young boy is insufferable. He wails like a banshee when he does not get his way, and continues until he parents acquiesce. And the parents themselves are no better! They bully the neighbors, and sneer at anyone that does not conform to their way of thought. They are not a healthy family, Albus." Professor McGonagall ranted, her voice reaching a point that Albus pulled a stick out of his sleeve and waved it, causing a hazy barrier to form around them, then disappear.
"A privacy charm, my dear Professor. I was not expecting you to lose your control like that." Albus chided, a chuckle behind his words. "Now, even though you bring up those points - and they are all valid ones – the Dursleys are still Harry's family. The only family he has left. Therefore he will be left with them until such a time as he should come to Hogwarts." Albus stated. His voice was such that it brooked no disagreement. Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to begin arguing the point, but a curt look from Albus hut her off, and her teeth came together with an audible click. She was not happy, and knew nothing good would come of this placement.
At that moment, a dull roar could be heard in the distance. Turning their heads the two elderly people saw a pinprick of light getting bigger as the noise increased. Professor McGonagall leaned toward Albus, saying "Are you sure it was a good idea for Hagrid to deliver the Potter child?" Albus turned his head toward Professor McGonagall and said serenely "Minerva, I would trust Hagrid with my life, which admittedly is becoming more fragile with the years." The air seemed to shake as a large motorbike could be seen coming toward them not from the ground, but the sky. Its front wheel dipped down, and it approached the ground at an alarming pace. Minerva held her breath as it touched down, revealing the rider.
He was tall, a giant of a man really. Standing easily over ten foot tall, the man seemed to be able to fit five men in his trousers. His shaggy black hair was long and wiry, as was his ample beard. His beady black eyes resembled beetles as they peered out from a craggy, darkly tanned face. In one of his hands he held a small bundle that he had cradled to his chest. In his arms, it seemed to be no more than a balled up bit of cloth, but Albus smiled gently upon seeing it. "Headmaster Dumbledore" the man began, his voice gravelly and sad, tinged with an indescribable hurt. "I brought Harry, jus' like ye asked. He's out now, mussa fell 'sleep as we was passin' o'er Bristol." He said quietly, glancing down at the bundle in his hand. It moved a little, and a tuft of messy black hair was revealed, a yawn issuing from deep inside the cloth.
"Ah, Hagrid," Albus greeted, "thank you. If you'll hand him to me, we can get him taken care of and be on our way." Hagrid nodded sadly, and lifted up the bundle to his lips, placing a tender, but very whiskery kiss on the small boy's head. He then stooped down and handed the boy to Albus, who took out his stick again, waving it and making a small basket appear out of thin air. He then placed the small boy in it with a note, and waved his stick again. "A warming charm," he explained to Minerva, "so he might evade the cold air of this night." Albus then walked up to the door of number 4 Privet Drive, and set the basket with its precious cargo on the stoop, to be discovered in the morning. "Sleep well, Harry Potter. A great destiny awaits you in the future." He whispered to the infant. Albus stepped back and motioned Minerva and Hagrid to the corner where he'd appeared. Hagrid took his motorbike with him, and Minerva followed slowly, a worried look on her face. There was a click, the roar of an engine, and two faint pop. Then, all was as it should be on Privet Drive, save the slightly rustling bundle on the stoop of number 4.
As the moon made its nightly journey across the sky, 2people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter – the boy who lived!"2
AN:Greetings dear readers. This chapter was obviously just the prologue, a way to get my creative juices flowing. It may not have been the most original of things, but I tried to make it interesting. Please leave your comments in the comment box, no review will go unanswered. Now, for the quotes:
*1,2: Chapter 1 of "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" by J.K. Rowling.
